Tuesday, April 6, 1982

Al fumbled to get his keys out of the lock and staggered inside. He closed and locked the door behind him and shuffled into the den. I looked up from the magazine in my lap; my mind unable to focus, I'd been on the same article for almost an hour.

"Where have you been?" I demanded. The kids were in bed, it was well after eight o'clock, and he'd finally shown up.

"Meeting ran late," he said as he entered the living room, a surly tone to his voice.

I folded my arms and frowned. "And where was this meeting held at, hmm? The Pyramid Lounge, or was it the Fountain this time?"

"I dunno wha' you're talking about."

I pushed the magazine out of my lap and stood. "Don't lie to me, Al! You've been out drinking again, haven't you?"

He shrugged and crossed to our liquor cabinet, unlocking it and withdrawing a bottle. I walked over and snatched the bourbon out of his hands.

"No, that's enough for tonight." I returned it to the cabinet and slammed the door shut.

Al glared at me and belligerently said, "You're not the boss of me."

"That's real mature, Al." I rolled my eyes and stalked upstairs, disgusted by his behavior. He followed me into our bedroom.

"Ohhh, Beth, I like the way you think," Al leered, the words slurring. He indicated the bed and walked towards me, a slight list to his gait.

I took a step back from him; the scent of alcohol on his breath was so strong it practically intoxicated me. His bloodshot eyes narrowed and he grabbed my shoulders, pulling me to him and roughly kissing me. I put my hands on his chest and shoved him away.

"Al, you're drunk. Stop it."

"How many times did you push Dirk away?"

I stared at him, blindsided by such an absurd accusation. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Oh, c'mon, Beth…don't play stupid with me." He staggered closer, a cold fire burning in his eyes that told me he was saying something that had occupied his mind for…months. Ever since Dirk Simon came to our table at my birthday dinner. "You were seeing him while I was gone."

"I ran into him twice…I had lunch with him. That was it!"

"And you brought him back to our house!"

I pressed my lips together and turned away from him. "I'm not going to discuss this with you while you're drunk."

"And what about that cop? Whassisname…Jake. What about him?" He came closer to me, and I pulled my arms in to myself, shivering. The clarity of the details he threw at me confirmed that he'd stewed over them continuously since January. "Even Dirk was jealous of him…I could tell. Even after all those years…" He gave me a hard look. "You brought him to our house, too."

"Stop it," I said, whirling on him. "I thought you were dead! I'm sorry, but I did…especially after that Marine kid died. You were M.I.A., and after two years of nothing I thought you were dead! How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"And you must've been so lonely," mocked Al. "Free to come and go, and to see other men—while I was alone in the jungle, penned up like an animal—thinking of you all the time! So tell me, Beth…did you even spare a thought for me while you were screwing them?"

I slapped his face so hard his head whipped to the side.

"Don't you ever speak to me that way again!" I stood there, breathing hard and shaking. My hand throbbed. "How dare you question my devotion to you? Accusing me of cheating on you! Is that really what you think of me?"

Al pressed a hand to his cheek, feeling the large red welt forming. His mouth dropped open and I didn't know if he was more shocked by the slap or by the accusation he'd made. I stared at him, this angry drunk who'd taken the place of the man I loved. Too many nights he'd come home this way. Too many times had I found him pouring yet another glass of bourbon, vodka, gin, or scotch. I couldn't take it anymore.

Storming to the closet, I started grabbing handfuls of my clothes and piling them on the bed. I yanked a suitcase from the back of the closet and tossed it onto the bed, recklessly throwing the clothes into it.

Al seized my wrist as he cried, "What are you doing?"

"Get your hands off me!"

He released my hand and watched me, horrified, as I went next to the dresser and brought an armload of lingerie to the suitcase. I slammed the lid down and fumbled with the latches as I tried to close it.

"Are you leaving me?" he asked in a subdued voice.

I got the last latch affixed and raised my head to look at him. "That's up to you, isn't it?" I returned to the closet and dragged out a second suitcase, larger than the first. "I'm taking the girls to my parents' for a while. When we come back all depends on when you decide we're more important to you than the booze."

"You are!"

"Prove it to me, then." I stopped in the middle of the room, three nightgowns and a pair of pajamas trailing out of my arms. He looked helplessly from me to the suitcases on the bed.

"I….."

Shaking my head, I resumed my path to the bed and dumped the nightclothes into the second case.

"Beth…I love you!"

"You haven't acted like you do for a while now."

I crossed to the opposite side of the room, where the laundry basket was. I hadn't sorted out the girls' underwear and socks yet, so I just carried the whole basket to the suitcase and upended it.

"Beth, no. Don't do this."

"I don't know how else to get through to you!" I threw the empty laundry basket to the floor. "My God, Al, even the girls have noticed something's wrong!"

Al dropped to his knees and grabbed my hips. He pressed his forehead against my stomach for a moment then looked up at me and pleaded, "I'm sorry. Beth, I'm sorry! Don't take the girls away. Don't leave me!"

Closing my eyes and fighting not to cry, I disengaged his hands and took three careful steps away from him. "I don't want to, Al. But I honestly don't know who you are anymore."

He hung his head and buried his face in his hands. I stepped around him and left our bedroom, collecting clothes and nightgowns from our children's closets and dressers. Because I didn't want to wake them up yet, I had to operate only from their nightlights, so there was truly no telling what the outfits I'd gathered looked like. I returned to our bedroom, laden down.

Al hadn't moved, but he looked up and tracked my movements as I carried the girls' clothes to the suitcase and dropped them into it.

"It's late," he protested. "Wait til morning."

"Al, I love you, but I can't stay here one minute longer."

"Wait til morning. I'll leave…I'll stay at a motel tonight."

"You'll do no such thing, Albert Calavicci! You're drunk! There's no way you're getting behind the wheel."

He sighed and got to his feet. I kept a wary eye on him, confident he wouldn't do anything to hurt the girls, or me, but I was still cautious. The accusation he'd flung at me continued to sting as much as my palm did from slapping him. His left cheek, meanwhile, still bore the mark of my hand on it. Deflated, Al sat on the bed.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

"Not tonight."

He cupped his hand over his mouth and shakily exhaled. "I'm sorry, honey. Please…."

I held my hand up and shook my head, "I can't deal with this right now, Al. I can't take any more of your excuses and false promises." I paused, blinking away tears as I sighed. "I'm going to wake the girls up now. You can tell them goodbye."

He covered his face with his hands and dissolved into quiet sobs. Clenching my jaw to steel my resolve, I left the room and went to wake the twins first. I turned on the overhead light and moved to Bridget's bed.

"Bridget…wake up, baby."

She groaned and squinted up at me. "Mommy?"

"Sweetie, we're going on a trip to see Nana and Papa."

"Now?" she yawned.

"Yes. Get up and get dressed, honey."

"Okay," she mumbled. Confused, she ambled to the closet and pulled down an orange shirt and bright blue pants. While she dressed, I woke her sister. Michele rubbed her eyes and moved zombie-like to the closet, where she sleepily chose a striped blouse and flowered pants.

Leaving the twins to get ready, I headed into Theresa's room. It took four tries to get Theresa awake, and she wasn't much better than the twins in the alertness department. Still, I had three girls up and moving. Grace was the only one left, but at two years of age, I couldn't expect her to dress herself. I just prayed that she would be too sleepy for a battle of "Me do it!"

Al stood in our doorway as I left Theresa's bedroom, watching me with eyes now as angry as they'd previously been sorrowful. "Don't do this, Beth," he said.

"I don't have a choice. I told you, Al, I don't know how else to get through to you."

"Taking my kids away from me is the answer, huh?" His mouth tightened into a hard line and he moved forward.

"It's the only answer I have right now."

He stood in front of Grace's doorway now, his hands on either side of the jamb to block me. "Don't," he said again. His body was stiff, tense, and ready to fight as he stared me down.

I glared back at him and firmly said, "Albert, move."

"And you say you love me," he scorned, a snarl on his face. My stomach lurched as I watched him storm downstairs.

I sighed, swallowed my tears, and went in to wake Grace.

"Nana?" Grace asked, her face lighting up as I gave her the same explanation I'd given her older sisters. She clambered out of bed and thankfully let me dress her in a purple shirt with matching corduroys.

I sent the girls downstairs and went into the bedroom to retrieve the bags. A melancholy breath escaped me as I grabbed the suitcases and staggered downstairs with them. The girls waited sleepily but expectantly at the front door—and there was no sign of Al. I swore under my breath and then yelled, "Al! We're leaving!"

He emerged from the dining room, ice tinkling in a glass of amber liquid. I frowned at him.

"What are you doing with that?"

"Drinking it. What does it look like?" he snapped. "What the hell did you expect, when you tell me you're leaving me?"

"We're all going to visit Nana and Papa," Michele said, brightly. "We're not leaving you, Daddy."

Al laughed harshly and coldly. "Is that all you told them, Beth?" He turned to the girls. "Didn't Mommy tell you that Daddy's not going on this trip? She's leaving me here. By myself. I'm not going with you."

"Cut it out!" I said, furious at his manipulation. "Don't do this to them!"

"Daddy's not going?" asked Bridget, growing more awake by the moment. "Why not?"

"Mommy doesn't want to be around me right now," he said, glaring at me.

"And this is exactly why," I shot back, gesturing at the squat tumbler he held. "Look at you! I asked you to think about what was more important to you—and I can clearly see you've decided it's not us!"

Al looked at the glass and abruptly put it down on the foyer table. "Oh God," he said, all color draining from his face.

"Come on, girls. Tell Daddy goodbye."

"Beth…"

"Please don't make this harder than it is, Al," I said, my voice hard as I fought to keep back the tears.

Al slowly nodded and dropped to one knee, opening his arms. He called Grace to him first. "Grace, I love you, sweetie."

She hugged him, not really understanding. "Love you," she said and smiled, sloppily kissing him on the lips. "Bye-bye, Daddy."

"Bye, munchkin," he choked out. It took him a long time to release her. When he did, he cleared his throat. "Resa, baby…come here."

She was already crying as she threw her arms around her father's neck. "Why can't you go, Daddy?" she wailed.

"It's just…not a good idea," he slowly answered. He hugged her close and kissed her. "I love you, Theresa."

"I love you, Daddy!"

"Michele?"

Michele closed her eyes and slowly walked to him. She didn't say anything, just wept silently as he embraced her, told her he loved her, and said goodbye. Michele nodded, and kissed him before breaking away and burying her face in my leg. I patted her back and sighed.

"Bridget, it's your turn, honey. Tell Daddy goodbye."

"I'm not going without Daddy!" Bridget shouted. She clung to Al and glared at me.

"Bree, tell him goodbye, honey. It's not forever."

"No!"

"You're coming with me, Bridget."

"No! I won't!"

"Just load the car, Beth. I'll make sure she goes with you," Al quietly said. He hugged Bridget tightly.

"Come on, girls."

I carried Grace outside, moving as quickly as I could with Michele clinging to my leg. Theresa followed, crying freely all the while. I settled the girls into the backseat of the station wagon then returned to the house to get the suitcases, which I tossed into the luggage area. Al had carried Bridget outside and stood in front of the house with her.

Gently, his voice catching, Al said, "You need to go with Mommy, Bree."

"NO! I wanna stay with you!" she shrieked.

"I know you do, baby. But I need you to go with Mommy. She needs you with her right now."

"I don't care! I want you, Daddy!"

Al looked helplessly at me. I closed my eyes for a moment, and then reached for Bridget. Al loosened his hold on her, and the two of us pried her arms away from him. She screamed and kicked, wailing for her Daddy. I pressed her small body close to mine.

"I'm sorry, Bree. I'm sorry. We'll come back to Daddy, I promise. He just needs some time to think about things."

"Nooooo!" she screamed. "We're leaving him behind! Noooo! Daddy! Daaaaaaaaaddddeeeeeeeeeeee!"

I dragged her flailing little body to the car and somehow got her inside. Her hysterics intensified Theresa's howling, and the two of them could be heard through the closed windows. Grace started crying for Al as well, and only Michele remained silent, her eyes wide and face pale.

Tears streamed openly from Al's eyes and he reached for me. I stiffly allowed him to hug me.

"I didn't want it to come to this, Al," I told him. My voice was steadier than I believed possible.

He didn't respond at first. "You're actually leaving me," he finally said, as if only now that the luggage and our daughters were in the car had the situation become a fact.

I nodded, tears spilling from my eyes. "It's up to you when—or whether—I come back."

Al rubbed his temples and took a shaky breath. "Oh, Beth…."

"Goodbye, Al." I knew if I didn't get in the car now, I never would. I closed the door and watched him through the windshield. My chest tightened and I found it hard to breathe. Behind me, Bridget screamed that she didn't want to leave her Daddy, Theresa and Grace sobbed, and Michele still sat in quiet shock. My hands trembled as I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. When I made it to the street, Al's shoulders started shaking.

I shifted into drive and headed down the street. I was certain Bridget's screaming had to have drawn neighbors to their windows if not outside, but I didn't look. After I passed Eileen's house, I checked the rearview mirror and saw only that Al had dropped to the grass. Crouched on all fours with his head resting on his forearms, he heaved sobs and his entire body quivered. Half a block later I couldn't see him anymore. When I reached the stop sign at the cross street three blocks away, I dropped my forehead against the steering wheel and sobbed.

It took several minutes for me to regain my composure enough to continue driving. I was torn up inside, hating the step I'd taken, fearing I'd acted more out of anger at Al accusing me of cheating on him than out of an attempt to shock him into straightening up. If I was completely honest with myself, it was a bit of both.

The girls screamed and cried for their father for a half hour straight before either crying or wearing themselves out. Several times I had to hastily wipe my eyes before blurred vision could cause an accident. I knew they were too little to understand why we'd left, even if I tried explaining it to them, so I remained silent. I clenched the steering wheel as I continued along I-15, the radio providing company but no comfort. My soul pulled towards Al, and I wanted to break down and cry full body-wracking sobs every time I thought of him crouched in the front yard, driven to his knees by despair as the five most important people in his life drove away. That image came to mind with a regularity like Chinese water torture.

A small hand touched my arm somewhere along the way, and I took my attention briefly away from the nearly-empty interstate to see who it was. Michele's puffy face looked hopefully at me.

"Do you still love Daddy?"

I wished I wasn't driving, but I was too scared to pull to the side of the highway in the dark. I risked another glance behind me to look into her eyes.

"Yes, I do. Very much."

"Then why did we leave?"

"Sheli, this isn't going to make much sense to you right now. We left because I love Daddy."

She thought about that for a long time, then put her head on my shoulder and squeezed my arm. "But you do love him, right?"

"Oh, yes, baby. With all my heart." I choked back tears and took one hand off the wheel to caress Michele's cheek. "Just like I love you."

She froze and I suddenly realized the implications of what I'd just said. Michele might think that she was in danger of being abandoned. I searched my mind, frantic for a way to clarify.

"Baby, you know how sometimes I have to punish you?"

"Yes," she said, hesitantly.

"Well, this is sort of a punishment for Daddy." Oh, God, it broke my heart to say it that way. "I want him to do what he's supposed to, and right now…" I trailed off.

"Is he being bad right now?" supplied Michele.

"Yes." Just take a steak knife and ram it into my heart to finish me off, God. I hate this! "That's sort of what's happening. And until Daddy decides he's ready to do the right thing…we're going to stay with Nana and Papa."

"Oh." She still held on to me. "Do you miss Daddy?"

I took my eyes off the road long enough to assure her, "I started missing Daddy as soon as I got in the car." I had to turn back around, but I continued, "I love your Daddy so much I can't even begin to describe it. I know it hurts that we left him, but it's for the best, honey. He needs to be by himself right now to think about things." I sighed and signaled my intention to pass a slow motorist. "And I promise you, Michele, I'm praying that it won't take long for Daddy to see what he needs to do."

"Okay," she said in a tiny voice. She kissed my cheek. "I love you, Mommy."

"I love you, too. Now sit back down and buckle up so you stay safe, okay, precious?"

"Okay." She withdrew, and I heard the click of her safety belt.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that Grace and Theresa had both fallen asleep. Bridget looked down at her hands, and Michele watched the cars pass by her window.

"Are you okay back there, Bridget?"

She looked up at me, her expression so remarkably and completely like Al that I caught my breath.

"You took me away from my Daddy," she said frigidly, before turning away to stare out the car window.

I bit my lip and blinked away tears, focusing on the road again. The radio provided the only sound in the car, unless you counted the slow, even breathing of Theresa and Grace or the occasional sniffles from the twins. I drove until fatigue started getting the better of me, and shortly around one in the morning, I pulled into a gas station outside of Las Vegas to fill up and get some coffee. I figured the girls probably needed to go to the bathroom, as well.

I looked in the window at them as I pumped gas, and saw that all four were fast asleep. I decided not to wake them. Surely if one of them had to go, they'd wake up and let me know. If not, well, I kept wipes in the glove box.

I filled the tank and grabbed my purse to go inside and pay. I looked around the station, uneasy about leaving the girls alone in the car. A semi at the far end at the diesel tanks was the only other vehicle. I made sure all the doors were locked and entered the convenience store, making a beeline for the coffeepot and filling the largest cup they had. I quickly paid and headed back to the car.

Fear gripped me when I saw a big man in a worn ball cap and flannel shirt looking in the windows of the station wagon. I clenched my keys and strode deliberately to him. "Can I help you?" I asked in a sharp voice.

The man's face visibly smoothed when he saw me. "I'm sorry if I frightened you, lady. I just wanted to make sure your kids were all right. My rig's over there and I saw you pull in." He studied my face, and then said, "Are you all right?"

I took a sip of coffee and rubbed my forehead. "I will be. Thank you for your concern, but I really need to get back on the road."

"Oh, sure, sure, I understand," he said. "How far are you heading?"

"Kansas City." I had no idea why I answered him.

"Which one?"

In for a penny, in for a pound. "Missouri."

He looked at the California plates on the car and I could see him doing the math. "Left in a rush, didn't you? Do you need some help, ma'am?"

I didn't answer, sipping my coffee again and wishing he would go back to his truck.

"I know…none of my business," he said. He smiled at me. "I hope you're not planning on trying to make it straight through."

"Oh, no. I'll stop after a while."

"That coffee'll keep you going for a few more hours. If you can make it to Cedar City, Utah—that's a bit before I-15 meets up with I-70—there's a decent selection of motels."

"Thanks for the tip," I said warily.

Getting the clue, the driver tipped his ball cap at me before walking off. "Good luck to you, ma'am. God bless."

When he was more than halfway back to his truck, I got in the car and started driving northward again. A chill descended upon me as I contemplated what might have happened if the burly trucker hadn't wanted to help, but to harm. Maybe I should call someone to let them know I'm on the road. I looked at the digital clock on the dashboard's radio display and immediately discarded that idea. I knew I truly wouldn't be bothering those who cared about me if I made a call at this hour, but I couldn't justify to myself not only waking them, but also consigning them to hours of worry. I also didn't want to lose the time it would take to find a pay phone. Sighing, I pressed on, fortifying myself with coffee and keeping alert by watching for the signs notifying of the upcoming junction to I-70, which would carry me eastward and closer to my hometown.

Sniffling and hiccupping from behind alerted me to one of the girls having awakened. I scanned the rearview mirror to see Theresa's bright eyes shining back.

"Resa, what's wrong, baby?"

"Daddy…."

"Oh, sweetie. I know."

She cried harder and I wished I could reach to hug her. "I wanna see him," she sobbed.

"I know you do, baby…and you will. I promise you will."

"When?"

"That I don't know," I honestly answered.

"Why not?"

I sighed. "Baby, it's hard to explain. It's grown-up stuff, and it's kind of complicated."

"Resa, Daddy's being punished," Michele said, startling me. I hadn't realized she was awake as well. "But Mommy still loves him. She told me so."

Theresa hiccupped, "Is that true, Mommy?"

"Oh, yes, baby girl. Yes, it is. I love Daddy more than life itself."

"What about Star?"

My brows drew together as I tried to follow her train of thought. "What about him, honey?"

"Is he being punished, too?"

I thought for a few moments before the lightbulb went on. Of course. I hadn't even thought about the dog, and naturally she'd think that we left him behind to punish him as well. A frown pursed my lips as I suddenly realized I hadn't packed any toiletries for us, either. All we had were clothes.

Turning my mind back to Theresa's question, I thought quickly and then said, "No. He's looking after Daddy. And Daddy will take care of Star, honey, don't worry about that." I prayed I was right and that Al wouldn't get into such a stupor he neglected the dog.

"O-k-kay." Theresa's tears didn't stop, but their force lessened. "I still miss Daddy."

"I know, Theresa. So do I." Oh, dear Lord, so do I.

Around 4 in the morning, I pulled into the driveway of a chain motel in Cedar City. I parked in front of the main lobby doors and grabbed my purse, hurrying inside. The desk clerk looked up in surprise from his newspaper, and removed a cigarette from his mouth.

"Can I help you?" he asked lazily.

"My kids are asleep in the car—alone," I quickly prefaced. "I need a room."

He slowly reached for a form, and I rapped my fingers on the counter in annoyance. "Did you hear me? My kids are alone outside."

"I need you to fill this out, ma'am." He slid the form to me.

Swearing under my breath, I quickly scrawled my information and thrust it back at him.

"Do you have a credit card?" He methodically laid the form into place in the credit card machine. Fumbling in my wallet while I craned my head to see the car through the windows, I grabbed the first card I felt and tossed it at the clerk.

"Can you hurry it up?" I demanded.

He looked up at me with the phone to his ear as he called for an authorization, and pulled the black bar across the form and card, imprinting the numbers on the carbon form. He handed my card back to me along with a key dangling a large plastic diamond bearing the chain's logo. "Room 1029. Drive around to the right."

I snatched the key from his hand, and barked a terse thanks before dashing out the door and back to my children. I breathed a sigh of relief that they were still asleep. The room was right around the corner and thankfully on the first floor. I pulled into the parking spot directly in front of the room and cut off the engine. Resting my head against the steering wheel I let out an aggrieved moan. I was wiped out, emotionally and physically drained.

I lifted my head and sucked in a desperate gulp of air before getting out of the car and opening the back door. Bridget and Theresa blinked and grimaced as the dome light gleamed starkly in their eyes.

"Come on out of the car, girls. We're stopping for the night."

They grumbled, but unfastened their seat belts and yawned. Theresa slid out first, since she was sitting in the foremost seat; Bridget was alone in the second rear seat. I lifted Grace into my arms, and then gently shook Michele awake. Finally, Bridget clambered out and slammed the car door behind her. I bit back an admonition and shook my head. As I unlocked the door to the room, I decided to forego nightclothes, too exhausted to deal with the luggage.

The clerk had given us a room with a king size bed, and I was unexpectedly relieved. There was no way we'd have all fit in one double bed, and I didn't want any of the girls sleeping in a bed alone tonight. We filed in the room and I switched on the lights and locked the door. The room was clean, decorated in shades of gold and green. I turned down the sheets on the bed and put Grace's sleeping form down, removing her shoes, socks, and corduroys. Bridget went to the bathroom, coming out as I put Grace's clothes on the closet shelf.

Kneeling in front of Theresa, I helped her out of her pants and shoes while I quietly asked the twins to do the same.

"I don't want to sleep in my clothes," complained Bridget. "I want a nightgown."

"I'm sorry, honey. I'm tired; it's four in the morning. It's just for a little while. Please help Mommy out, Bree."

She glared at me as she stepped out of her tennis shoes and unsnapped her pants. After she yanked off her socks and defiantly dropped everything to the floor, she retreated to the far side of the bed and turned her back on me, pulling the sheet to her shoulder.

Michele hugged me and kissed my cheek before going to the bathroom, as if her affection could counter her twin's coldness. I nudged Theresa before she crawled into bed. "I want you to go potty after Sheli's finished."

"I don't hafta go," she whined.

"Just try," I urged.

She let out a long-suffering sigh, and waited by the bathroom door, ducking in as soon as Michele emerged.

"Climb in bed, sweetie," I told Michele, putting their clothes up with Grace's. She complied, asking me if I was going to go to bed.

"In a little bit. I need to make a phone call first. You go ahead to sleep, baby."

She yawned and nodded, shifting over to make room for Theresa when her younger sister came back from the bathroom. I tucked all four of them in and brushed kisses across their cheeks, biting my lip after Bridget wiped the kiss off. Choking back a sob, I turned all the lights off except for the one by the bathroom, and then went in myself.

Afterwards, I quietly walked to the nightstand on the other side of the bed, picked up the phone and pulled it as far as the cord would go so I wouldn't disturb the girls. It nearly reached the table, so I dragged a chair closer and balanced the phone on my knees as I dialed my parents' number. I didn't feel as bad about calling now. My dad would be getting up soon if he hadn't already.

The phone rang three times, and then a sleepy voice answered. "Mmm, hello?"

"Dad?"

"Mmm-hmm…is this Janie or Beth?"

"It's Beth, Dad."

I heard a rustling as he apparently checked the time. He started to come more awake. "Why are you calling at this hour? It must be late for you. Honey, is something wrong?"

If I thought I could get through this conversation without breaking into tears, I'd been deluding myself. My voice cracked as I said, "I'm in Cedar City, Utah. I left Al." I abruptly burst into tears, startling myself and I knew I had to have just terrified my father.

"You left him? What happened? He didn't hit you, did he?"

"No, nothing like that," I quickly said. I knew now for sure I'd just scared him badly for him to instantly jump to that conclusion. He loved Al like a son. "Al would never hit me, Dad! He's never even raised a hand to me. It's…oh, God, Dad…I guess this has been coming for a couple months now. He's been having the nightmares again and he…" I paused and took a shaky breath. "He's dealing with them by drinking. I just…I just couldn't take it anymore. He's self-destructing, Dad." Sobs overwhelmed me again.

"Oh, Beth. No, Lillian, he didn't. She's not hurt."

"Maybe I should've called sooner, but can the girls and I stay with you for a while?"

"Of course you can, honey. You know you didn't even have to ask. When will you get here?"

"I don't know. I'm so tired…I've been on the road for 7 hours. I finally had to stop and get a room."

"Well, honey, you said you're in Utah? That should put you, oh, with at least 12 hours of driving ahead of you. Look, your Mom and I will keep the lights on for you tonight. You just get here when you can. Now get some sleep. Lillian, the girl needs her rest." An explosive sigh resounded from him. "Beth, she won't let me hang up unless she gets to talk to you."

I laughed through my tears. "Okay." More rustling as the phone changed hands. A flurry of whispers told me Dad was filling her in on what little I'd told him.

"Beth? Oh, God, Beth, honey, are you okay?"

"Yes, Mom. I'm just upset." I sighed. "Bridget hates me for leaving him."

"She doesn't understand, honey."

"I know." I let out a hollow laugh. "If you want to know the truth I hate myself a little bit right now."

"Now, Beth, you need to stop that."

"Oh, Mom. I love him!" I wept. "I just didn't know how else to get through to him. I can't watch him drink himself to death."

"Is it that bad?"

"No. I don't know. Maybe." Tears clogged my voice for a moment. "I'm sorry, I can't talk about this right now."

"Okay, Beth. It's all right. Get some sleep, honey. We love you."

"I love you, too."

I hung up and stretched to replace the phone on the nightstand. Then I drew my knees into my chest, hugging them to me and burying my face as I sobbed. Finally, I stood and took a ragged breath, kicking off my shoes, slipping out of my jeans, and reaching underneath my blouse to remove my brassiere so I'd sleep a bit more comfortably. I dropped my clothes into the chair and then crossed the room to the bathroom. The lone light I'd left on got switched off, then I got into bed with the girls. Rustling sounded and I felt the mattress shift as one of them got up from her current place and crawled across the foot of the bed. When she got to me, she touched my legs and felt her way up to the head of the bed like a blind person.

"Mommy?" It was Michele.

"Yes, honey," I whispered back.

"Will you hold me?"

I pulled her on top of me and hugged her close. "Of course, precious." I adjusted the sheets to cover us both.

She rubbed my earlobe until she fell asleep. Not long afterwards, I followed suit.